


Too Cold Always

by DostoevskyBrosK



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Chubby bucky barnes, Don't copy to another site, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28899546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DostoevskyBrosK/pseuds/DostoevskyBrosK
Summary: Bucky has come back wounded from war. A changed man. He is trying to cope with being back in a world he hardly recognizes and runs into his old friend Steve, who has taken the past several years Bucky’s been gone to get big. Very big. And very muscley. All over. Especially his chest. Are those real? Bucky would like to feel for himself.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83
Collections: Cupid's Stupids: A Stucky Valentine's Day 2021





	1. Nobody Heard Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allfleshisgrass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfleshisgrass/gifts).



> The title for this story comes from the brilliant “Not Waving but Drowning” by Stevie Smith (see below for the full poem). I will be using Smith for all my chapter titles – she really is a fascinating poet (deeply compassionate overall, but every now and then prickingly cold, and I feel like her poems are not as well know as they ought to be). I still get chills every time I read “Not Waving but Drowning.” This is my first time doing a Collection or a Challenge or anything – and my first fic in this fandom. I had a lot of fun, and I hope you all enjoy the story. I have written it for the wonderful [ allfleshisgrass ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfleshisgrass/pseuds/allfleshisgrass) I love her writing, especially [ “triple the fun” ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947122) which I highly recommend!  
> Note: This story is written by me (although obviously inspired by another's work). I do not want this posted anywhere else.

Bucky leaned against his bunk, trying to reach under his bed to get to his box. “Your Special Love Box!” Natasha called from the next bunk over. Bucky rolled his eyes. Exclaiming in triumph he pulled his _Normal letter box, thank you very much Natasha_. He sat down on his bed, pulling Steve’s letters to look through them again.

Natasha liked to say Bucky would read them every hour he was on base, but he knew that wasn’t true. It wasn’t true because Bucky was already strictly regulating himself, so he knew how much he looked at them and read them. _Not too much. Just the right amount._ He smiled as he touched the paper that he knew Steve had held at some point. He knew he was a mess – having been in love with his best friend for most of their lives. He had briefly thought of doing something about it. Maybe confessing to Steve just before he shipped out, but that didn’t seem very fair. Now they just wrote each other letters, and Bucky counted down the days until he could see him again.

He hadn’t heard from him since his last letter, about two months ago. Steve had detailed how he finished art school and what job he was hoping to get in the next couple of months. _I am sure that is why he hasn’t written again. He is probably so busy and wants to wait to send a letter when he has some news to share._ Bucky hadn’t seen Steve for over four years, and he really missed the way Steve’s hair would always stubbornly flop into his face, and how Steve, just as stubbornly, would push it back, only for it to flop back down.

Bucky smiled to himself. _What a dork_. He could practically hear Natasha yell – “yeah, like you?” in his mind, but he assiduously ignored it. Steve was sure to write back soon. _Maybe I will even have a letter waiting for me when I come back from our next mission._

Bucky reached back into his box and pulled out his own paper and envelopes. He set about writing Steve.

Steve,

I keep waiting to hear from you, but maybe all the letters are being held up along the line. We are in a precarious position out here. I want to hear all about your triumph at art school. I know that you will have finished by now, but how did your senior show go? I was so sad I had to miss it because I am sure it was brilliant. You know how much I like seeing your work, and now it has been forever since I have gotten to see them myself. You only sent that one sketch of Becks a few months back, which was wonderful. But is it so terrible to want to see more of your art?

For your show, were you able to set it up the way you wanted? I know you were worried that there wouldn’t be enough room for that one triptych you had worked on all last year. It sounds like a beautiful piece.

Trust yourself, Stevie. Don’t let the others bring you down or influence you too much. You have a great style all your own, and it wouldn’t be worth it to just be another one of them (you know who I am talking about – I am not even sure they seem like a good friend). I really miss you, punk. I hope I get to see you soon.

I know I already told you thanks for sending _Prisoner of Zenda_ , but I finally got time to read it. Swashbuckling. What a silly word, but really it fits it perfectly. An engaging adventure of mystery, romance, suspense, swordplay, and intrigue. It was so much fun and just the kind of book I love to read. You always pick the best ones for me.

I have been promised a break next month, so I will cross my fingers that it will work out. I want to take you on a congratulatory meal for the official artist. I still need to get back my sweatshirt you stole all those years ago. It was just the right weight, and I can’t believe you’ve had it all this time.

Bucky

Bucky frowned at his letter a little unhappy with it. But shrugged his shoulders, deciding that he needn’t think on it too hard. _Steve won’t mind_. He addressed it and left it with the other letters to be picked up and edited before they were mailed out. Then, he set about getting ready to go on his next mission. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clint leaned against Bucky’s back as they climbed into their truck transport. “So where are we headed in this thing?” He asked, loudly smacking his lips just to irritate Bucky.

Bucky tried to elbow him, but Clint danced away expecting the move.

“Stop it, children.” Natasha called as she climbed in behind them. “You know we haven’t been told yet, Clint.” She gestured to the envelope in her hands, which she handed to Bucky, “You better do the honors, Sarge.”

He smiled at her and ripped the envelope open. Bucky had joined up just out of high school to help his mother. His father had died the year before, when Bucky was only seventeen, and Winnifred had a difficult time feeding and caring for his four younger sisters. He was happy to find something that took some of the burden off his mother, and he hoped it would help with his sisters as well. He didn’t really enjoy what he did – though he was touted as the best sharp shooter in their company, but he tried to tell himself it was for a good cause.

Most days he wasn’t so convinced. Today it felt even more depressing when he opened the envelope and read their orders. _I have a bad feeling about this one._ He tried to squash and ignore his inner thoughts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was a shit show almost immediately upon arrival. The group that had been sent to be their backup bailed without a word, leaving just their small unit. Stranded, in the enemy’s camp, trying to work with their stealth to make it back to somewhere they could radio for help.

“Behind you, Sarge!”

Someone yelled, and Bucky turned quickly. But not quickly enough. One of the soldier’s got a shot off, which tore through Bucky’s left arm. He tried to ignore the pain and focus on his unit.

“To the left.” He shouted. Watching his unit fall into position, Bucky felt like maybe they could get out of this if they could just, he looked behind him, _yes. If we can just get over that hill_. He nodded to himself, almost feeling satisfied. “Clint, you follow up just in front of me. Natasha, you take the lead. Aim for that hill. We will be able to get a signal up there. Come on, Thomas, get in front of Clint. Yes, like that. He’s got you. We won’t leave you behind. Don’t worry.” Bucky shouldered Thomas, who had a bad leg wound that was bleeding freely onto Josh’s back. _Together they should be fine_.

Turning back around, Bucky could see a mass of at least twenty soldiers who had woken up to find the enemy in their camp. _They aren’t going to be too pleased._ Bucky set his shoulders. He was going to fight off as many as he could. _I have to give my unit time to get away. To call for help. Got to give them enough time._

The fighting was furious, and Clint saved Bucky’s life a number of times. But finally, they had gotten far enough away that Bucky turned to Clint. Grabbing his shoulder he yelled, “You are the last one, Clint. Get your ass up that hill. I will be right behind you.”

“Promise, Sarge?” Clint asked. His voice sounded tense and almost thin. Bucky strained to hear him.

He gave a jerky nod, _I don’t want to lie to him, but this is the only way_. He went back to fighting the soldiers that just kept appearing. They were fighting ferociously, and Bucky knew he was running out of ammunition. _This is not going to end well_. He turned back to assure himself that Clint had made it, but before he could make sense of what he was seeing, a sharp sting cut through his mind. The pain in his left arm intensified, and it was all Bucky could do to not collapse. He tried to find something that he could lean against, but there was nothing stable around him.

He gritted his teeth as he tried to get a few more shots off with his gun, but it slid out of his hands even as he slid onto the floor.

 _No. No. No. Get up! Bucky, Come on._ He tried to rally himself. _Get to your unit. They are going to want you. They need you._ But he blinked uncomprehendingly at what surrounded him. _No they don’t. They are a good unit. They will be ok on their own._ He let himself sink even further into the ground. _This is just how it ends. That is ok._ He felt his heart speeding up, telling him that he still had some energy left in him. _I wish I could have seen Steve one last time_. He blinked, feeling like he could just make out his friend’s kind blue eyes, hidden by his blond hair.

But suddenly they melted away as rough arms grabbed him. His mind was too tired to make sense of what was being shouted all around him. The next thing Bucky knew, he was strapped to some sort of table. He couldn’t understand what it was. Or where it was. Pain dominated his mind. But in a few seconds, he felt a maniacal desire to laugh at himself. The person next to him was holding his left arm, and another person was hacking away at it with a saw. Bucky felt such an intense pain – unlike any he had ever felt before. He tried to scream out, but even that faded away, lost amidst the overwhelming pain.


	2. Brink of Eternal Night

Bucky tried to draw into himself more, but with the last stop the bus had taken on another ten passengers. Most of them were squashed together in the center aisle, but some were trying to fit in seats that seemed only big enough for one. Bucky wanted to disappear into the seats. To melt away and simply not be noticed by anyone. But he was also shivering from the cold. He always felt so cold since he got brought back. He hadn’t felt warm once.

He tried sinking down further into the seat while pulling his dirty ballcap over his matted hair. Just this morning his mother had sighed when she looked at him. She seemed to be trying to convince herself it was a blessing her son had been found and returned to her after being held captive for six months. Bucky wasn’t so sure she succeeded in persuading herself. 

He wasn’t sure himself. That is to say – he was sure, but he felt guilty for how he wished he had died there in that cold, bitter snow. The bus jerked as it swerved around something and everyone shifted to the right, which made a young boy fall onto Bucky’s left-side. He cringed in what he knew was phantom pain but still felt every bit as real and powerful.

Bucky cringed away from the child, but he was stuck beside a burly bearded man. _It is too tight. I am too tight. Trapped. Why am I trapped?_ Bucky started shaking. _A stupid idea. Why did I think I could do this? I can’t do this! I need to get OFF!_

Bucky was sure his eyes were wild. He couldn’t seem to get control of them as they roved all around the bus. He saw some people he thought he recognized. _No. Why would I know them? I don’t know them._ He tired to shake his head and tried to force himself to concentrate on his breathing. _I only need to make it to the next stop. I can get out then. That isn’t a problem. Is it? I ought to be able to wait. Right? Can I make it?_

Abruptly the bus stopped, jarring everyone again. But this time Bucky was more prepared to sway with the people and ensure no one else touched him. He stood as people began getting off and readjusting. Trying to be patient and not push everyone out of his way, Bucky finally made it off the bus. _Dumb. Dumb idea. How am I going to get home now?_ He scratched his face idly with his hand. _I can’t even remember what I came out here for. Was it really just to get away from Mom’s hovering?_

Bucky moved to one side, letting all of the foot traffic pass by him. Since he had gotten back, he hadn’t worked out much, and he was feeling like he was too big. Like he was always in everyone’s way. He hung his head and stared down at the broken pavement. _I am the worst son. She is just trying to help, and I know I am being impossible. But she suffocates me. I feel her disappointment every time she looks at me._ He pushed the toe of his shoe into the dirt that had collected around one of the fissures in the cement. Unconsciously biting his lip, Bucky remembered what had convinced him to get on the bus.

His mom this morning was waxing eloquent on “that genius Rogers. Remember him, Bucky.”

He had wanted to scream at her, “Of course I remember my best friend Mom. What do you think I lost all my good memories just because I came back with so many bad ones?” But he knew that wouldn’t be fair. And she was only bringing Steve up in such an awkward way because she wanted to ask why he hadn’t seen him yet. And really – _Why haven’t I seen Steve yet_? Bucky kicked at the crack, hoping it would open him up and just swallow him as well as the dirt that shifted and fell down into it.

_I know I have been impossible to get along with since I got back. I am just not ready to see Steve’s face fall when he realizes all that I lost out there._

Bucky let his eyes drift up, taking in some of the people who were walking by him. Suddenly, Bucky’s whole body went rigid. “Steve?” he said aloud, although he was unaware of having done so. Just a few feet away stood a man who was looking intently at his phone. He also had stepped out of the flow of traffic, but it wasn’t because he was having a meltdown. His face looked just like the Steve in Bucky’s memory. The one that always seemed to appear before him with just the right soothing words.

However, everything else about the man before him was different from Bucky’s Steve. This man was as tall as a tree. He had blond hair, sure, but it was styled well and pulled back from the man’s sparkling blue eyes. He looked like he was a solid wall of muscle. He was tall, beefy man, looking like a Greek god – Apollo come down to earth.

The man jerked up at the sound of Bucky’s voice, and just when Bucky was getting ready to look away quickly, the man’s face broke into a large, warm smile. “Bucky!?” He said, his voice full of surprise and excitement. “Bucky!” He took a step closer, “I have been trying to get in contact with you since you got home. Your mom is talking up a storm to anyone who will listen about her brave Bucky finally come home.”

“Steve?” Bucky said aloud, this time meaning to. “Is that really you?”

Steve chuckled good naturedly. “I told you about that experimental program I joined – what a month after you left?”

Bucky nodded, still feeling like he was in shock. “It worked?” he managed to inquire.

Steve nodded, happily, “Yeah! Dr. Erskine was a genius. Did such a good job with me, and ought to be able to help a lot more teens out there.” Steve patted himself a bit self-consciously.

 _Is he blushing?_ Bucky couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. It died just as quickly as it began, and Bucky tired to turn his left side. He knew it was silly. Not having an arm was kind of hard to miss, but he didn’t want to see the light fall from Steve’s eyes. He didn’t want to be responsible for this meeting going poorly.

“Do you feel as good as you look?” Bucky asked, immediately wanting to slap himself. _Why not just send him an engraved invitation to the wedding you wish you were planning with him, Bucky?_

But Steve didn’t seem to notice anything untoward in the question. “Yes. I can’t tell you how amazing it is to be able to breath more easily. I don’t even have to worry when I run – I can just let myself go.”

He beamed at Bucky, who wanted to shrink into himself more and more. He was incredibly aware of his dirty clothes. He had refused to take them off for five days straight, more to drive his mom into leaving him alone (an ill-advised plan at any time and now feeling downright silly) than for any other reason. Or so Bucky tried to convince himself. _It has nothing to do with not wanting to catch sight of myself in the mirror or for being scared of the way the shower sounds or . . ._ Bucky struggled to quiet his mind, focusing back on Steve. The juxtaposition of the two of them was sure to stand out to anyone walking by them.

Here Steve was, looking so delicious and all the sudden Bucky’s eyes narrowed in . . .to Steve’s chest. _He always did have trouble buying the right sizes for himself, but I am not really sure you can call that a shirt. Why even bother to wear one when it looks practically painted on. It is almost obscener the way it is stretched across his chest, his nipples poking out so triumphantly. And why shouldn’t they._ Bucky just managed to stop himself from reaching his hand out to palm one of them.

All of a sudden, Bucky was aware of silence. He looked back up to Steve’s eyes, still the same blue he always remembered and gave an eloquent, “I’m sorry. Did I miss something?”

Steve’s eyes laughed at him, but the rest of him seemed more subdued. “I just was hoping you had time to go get coffee with me. I have,” he stopped and look at his watch. _Of course, what dork. Who else wears a watch these days?_ Bucky could not stop the fond smile that spread over his face, “about two hours before my next appointment. I know there is a good café just there.”

When Steve looked up and saw Bucky’s fond smile, he seemed to relax even more. “Gosh, Bucky,” Bucky stopped himself from rolling his eyes, _What a boy scout._ “I’ve really missed you.”

“Me too, punk. Come on, let’s go get that coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter comes from Smith’s “My Soul:”  
> In the flame of the flickering fire  
> The sins of my soul are few  
> And the thoughts in my head are the thoughts of a bed  
> With a solitary view.  
> But the eye of eternal consciousness  
> Must blink as a bat blinks bright  
> Or ever the thoughts in my head be stilled  
> On the brink of eternal night.
> 
> Oh feed to the golden fish his egg  
> Where he floats in his captive bowl,  
> To the cat his kind from the womb born blind,  
> And to the Lord my soul.


	3. My Friends Don’t Know

Steve walked next to Bucky. _He is like the sun, shining brightly. I can hardly stand to look at him full on._ Bucky felt himself getting a bit nostalgic, _I kind of miss the skinny little kid I used to follow as he chased around and fought all those bullies._ He looked at Steve without turning his head, noting how he walked differently now. He shook his head a little. _Not that I am not glad for a chance to get to know this new . . . meatier Steve._

“Here it is.” Steve said cheerfully. He opened the door for Bucky.

“Treating me like your best girl, Stevie?”

“More like my best guy.” Steve mumbled. Bucky wasn’t sure if he was supposed to catch that. Bucky smiled. _It doesn’t feel like we haven’t seen each other in years_. _Or that I just spent half a year . . ._ Bucky pushed the thought away. Then, Steve put his hand on his shoulder. He felt warmth suffuse through him, making him want to curl up in it.

They ordered their coffee and sat down in a corner table, away from all the other patrons. Bucky had also ordered a cookie twice the size of his hand. He hoped Steve wasn’t judging him for that, but he also didn’t really care. He wanted a cookie, so he was going to have a cookie. Thankfully, the table they sat at was tucked away but had good sightlines. Bucky hoped he was casual as he took the seat facing the doors. _I can’t believe I am here with Steve._ Steve followed him and sat down comfortably. He was resting his arms on the table, which caused his chest to bunch up. Bucky felt his mouth dry up. _Look at those tits._ He shifted his gaze up to meet his friend’s feeling a bit ridiculous. _Why am I acting like I have never seen a man with muscles before?_ Bucky didn’t want to admit, especially to himself, that he had been nervous that he might not find sexual desire again. The six months had been long, horrible, and surprising with what they took from him. Wanting another human was one thing that had scratched at the back of his mind, marking itself as deeply unpleasant. _But maybe that is because I just hadn’t seen the most beautiful blue eyes sparkling with that surprising blend of big, beefy, blond._

Bucky cleared his throat. “So, Mom keeps dropping hints about how you are doing really well. Said you are some kind of genius.”

Steve let out a booming laugh. “I don’t know if that’s true at all. I have been lucky to get a bit of work since I finished school.”

Bucky’s face naturally eased into a smile, and he allowed himself to lean back. He felt more like himself than he had in seven months, maybe five years. “I knew you would do well. How did your senior show go?”

Steve’s faced flushed red with pleased embarrassment. “It went well, thanks Buck. Your encouragement gave me the confidence I needed.”

“Are you getting a lot of commissions?”

Steve shook his head, “No. Only one so far. But it did help me get a job related to the theme of my show.”

“That’s really good, Steve. I’m happy for you.”

“Winnie has been talking to everyone about how good it is to have you home, but all I’ve been thinking about were all the books you will get to read now. I know that you never felt like you had enough time once you joined up.” Steve seemed to blush even more as he reached into his pocket.

“I am surprised you can fit your hand in there your pants are so tight, Steve.”

“Jerk!” Steve smiled up at him, pulling out a small paperback and pushing it across to him. “I’ve been carrying this around with me since I bought it for you.”

Bucky could practically see what Steve didn’t say. _Aw Stevie, you didn’t carry it around with you while I was captured, did you?_ Bucky wanted to hug him he was so thankful for how easy Steve made it all seem. How natural.

Bucky reached over and pulled it to him. “ _Lost Horizons_? Looks good.”

“One of the first paper books, I think. You’ll like it since you like swashbuckling books so much.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but smiled even so. They spent the next hour talking about any manner of things. It was easy. It was nice. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he had been so happy. Steve might be twice the size Bucky had last seen him, but he was still the soft, art nerd that Bucky had loved all those years ago. _Really would have thought I would have gotten over it. Or, you know, that I had more important things dominating my mind right now._ He stared happily at Steve as he explained his commission. _Should have known I would never really get over Steve._

Steve looked down at his watch and grimaced. “Looks like this is as late as I can push it.” Steve looked back up at Bucky. “We need to do this again some time. And by some time, I mean soon. Really soon.”

They exchanged goodbyes, and Steve seemed like he wanted Bucky to pull him into a hug. Bucky wanted a hug but couldn’t bring himself to get up. _Come on. Just stand._ But he took too long thinking and trying to work up his nerve to stand. Instead, he just watched as Steve walked out of the café.

 _That went better than I could have imagined or hoped._ Bucky sighed to himself. His eyes searched the room, as they were always doing. But they stopped when they got the chair across from him. Steve had just been there, but in his place was the bright red jacket he had been carrying with him. Bucky felt a little guilty for the zip of joy that brought to him. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They were pulling his arm again. They had taken it from him over two months ago, but they seemed to enjoy playing with the little bit that was left. Sometimes they would take turns cutting off chunks of it, whoever could cut the thinnest, but longest bit would win. Other times they would get more inventive. Today they simply seemed bored. The two guards had been smoking over Bucky’s still form, but then as if they reached the accord without needing voices, grinning over at each other. The first one placed his cigarette against Bucky’s lips, but the wrong end signed the delicate skin there. He laughed cruelly saying something in Russian Bucky couldn’t follow, his mind too dull with fatigue, hunger, and thirst. The next one pushed the hot end of his cigarette in between Bucky’s fingers that only just now Bucky realized were being held apart by painful clips that bit into his skin. They moved on to take out pokers of fire. _Where did they get those? Why didn’t I see them before?_ They pushed them into Bucky, and then he was only aware of his screaming.

Bucky woke with a start. His heart was pounding, his sheets twisted around his legs, and sweat beading on his forehead. Bucky tried to calm his breathing down. _Probably woke to my own screaming,_ he thought, frustrated at himself. _Probably woke up Mom and Becks too. I hope the little ones slept through it at least. What a useless weight I am to them._ His whole being felt like it was crumbling. Like he was getting even more caught up in the weird mix of memories and new horrors. He barely managed to lean over and grab at the coat he knew would be hanging just within reach. It was bright red, and it still smelled of Steve. He wrapped himself up in the coat, surrounding himself with Steve, still shaking.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Winnie smiled at Bucky as he stumbled into the kitchen. Bucky could see the smudges of tiredness marking that he had, once again, kept his mom up through the night. His heart sank with the knowledge. _I am such a terrible son. I just wanted to help her. And now look at what I’ve done_.

Winnie set down a plate of eggs and bacon for her son. “Guess who is coming this morning. He’s been wanting to see you since you got back.” She happily reported. For a brief moment, Bucky felt his heart sore.

“Steve?”

Winnie shook her head, “No, but you need to have that boy over soon.” She waited a space, seemingly giving Bucky time to figure out who she was thinking about. He shrugged. “Philip!”

She beamed at Bucky triumphantly, but he felt his stomach turn a little bit. Philip was someone he had gone to school with, someone who at one time expressed an interest in him, but he was always so concerned with presentation and looks. He only cared about what others looked like. And Bucky could just imagine how this would go when Philip walked in and saw him as he was now.

 _This isn’t going to go well._ Bucky thought, going for wry but striking more irritated. _I love being the person who has to work to make the other person comfortable. When really they are the ones being rude. How am I supposed to make someone feel better about the fact I don’t have an arm? Why should I have to?_ Bucky felt himself getting more and more irritated. He tried to calm himself by taking deep breaths and looked at his mom. She was bustling around the kitchen happily. _She does not even realize how difficult this is going to be,_ and Bucky didn’t want to make her life harder, _I am going to need to project calm and not let her know how much it hurts me. I can do this for her, can’t I? This is going to be a long day_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter comes from Smith’s “In My Dreams:”  
> In my dreams I am always saying goodbye and riding away,  
> Whither and why I know not nor do I care.  
> And the parting is sweet and the parting over is sweeter,  
> And sweetest of all is the night and the rushing air.
> 
> In my dreams they are always waving their hands and saying goodbye,  
> And they give me the stirrup cup and I smile as I drink,  
> I am glad the journey is set, I am glad I am going,  
> I am glad, I am glad, that my friends don't know what I think.


	4. Would Hear Him Sing

“Never thought I would hear from you again, Sarge.” Clint’s voice sounded tinny on the phone, but it made Bucky smile anyway. He was thinking about what to say, but Clint began talking again before he got a chance. “Yeah, I’m good. Here, Nat wants to talk to you.”

Bucky was still trying to make sense of what happened, when he heard Nat’s smoky voice. “James. Good to hear from you after so long.”

He waited a second, debating in his mind, but feeling like he was still supposed to watch over Clint won out, “You too Nat. What’s happened with Clint?”

He could almost hear her self-satisfied smile. “I told him that wouldn’t work, but he was convinced he could pull it off.”

Bucky smiled despite himself.

“You know how that last mission went. With Clint, he was too close to the bombs that had been dropped to help with our extraction. They took 90% of his hearing.”

Bucky felt his heart sink for his friend. His brother. The person he was supposed to protect. _What was the point of all that stupid suffering if I couldn’t even protect Clint?_ He was surprised at the force of his own frustration and feelings of uselessness. He had told himself a narrative while he had been captured. That he had helped keep others safe, and with this revelation it felt like a lie.

“James. I can hear you thinking. Don’t do that to yourself. You know you saved the entire unit by what you did. You couldn’t help Clint more than giving him his life.”

Bucky tried to nod, but couldn’t manage to say anything, even though he knew Natasha was waiting.

“Did you finally get to see your lover boy? The one who was so good at art?” Natasha’s question had the intended effect of startling him out of his dour thoughts.

“Steve?” He asked before he was really paying attention.

“Of course, Steve.”

“Yeah. We ran into each other two days ago. Got coffee.”

“Yes?”

“It was good. He . . . treats me just like he always has.”

“He as beautiful as you remember?”

Bucky breathed out a sigh. “So much more than I remember. I thought I knew his eyes well but seeing him again. Nat, they . . . they just shine.”

He could hear her snickering at him. He huffed.

“Glad to hear it, James. Hey, I have to go. Clint is getting himself into trouble again. Talk soon?”

“Yeah. I would like that.” He said, but he thought she might have already hung up before he could. He found himself staring at the wall for probably ten minutes after the conversation. Hew as just thinking. Thinking about the unit. The people who got hurt. The people he killed. The emptiness of it all. The blankness – how it all swallowed him up more and more. 

_I know I got to be better. Stop being so difficult for Mom or Becks to handle. I wish I could stop them from worrying. That isn’t helping me get better any, but how could I possibly say that to them?_ He rubbed at his hair. It was longer than he had ever had it before. His captors didn’t cut it, and he hadn’t since he got back. It had been the one easy moment he had with Becca. The two littlest girls didn’t seem to mind Bucky’s missing arm at all. They barely remembered him before he left and were just happy to have an older brother. They would climb all over his lap while Winnie would scold them. Bucky loved it. But here, Becca had done his hair up in elaborate braids that kept it out of his eyes and looked nice. _I should ask her to do that again. It was nice_.

He felt a little better with that memory, but it turned quickly when he remembered the disastrous visit of Philip’s. He had been just what Bucky anticipated. Supercilious, demeaning, and condensing. Mom and Becca were awkward around Bucky, but Philip was downright rude. He kept mentioning how broken Bucky was. How he must not know what to do with himself since he was so crippled. How he had really let himself go. And how could he stand to look in the mirror. Wasn’t he embarrassed about all the weight he gained since he left the army? It had taken everything within Bucky to not just scream at him. But he could see that his mom wanted him to have friends again – to be normal, and he didn’t want to strip that away from her, as painful as it was for him.

He felt himself pulled into a dark whole. _Fuck Philip. Fuck him out of my life. And out of anyone’s. I don’t need to worry about him._ But those thoughts seemed to do very little. He rolled over, pulling out Steve’s coat. _This poor coat was probably not made for this kind of thing, but I can’t help it. I just want feel it around me one more time._ He rolled himself like a burrito, trapping his hand in the rich fabric. It felt like he had both his arms again, bound together. He closed his eyes and just tried to breathe in the smell of Steve. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Winnie knocked tentatively on Bucky’s door. He wanted to stay on his bed, doing nothing.

“Bucky?” her voice was tentative, which was reason enough for Bucky to get out of the bed. He peeled off Steve’s coat, and rolled it onto itself, hoping that would help preserve the smell.

“Yeah Mom.” He opened his door.

Winnie smiled up at him. “Hey, Bucky. Heard from old Mrs. Heely. Remember her? You used to volunteer with the kids at Douglas elementary for her.” Winnie seemed to be waiting for something.

Bucky looked at her and nodded. “Yeah, sure. I would tutor kids after class on Wednesdays. That what you are talking about?”

Winnie nodded. “Yes. Yes, that exactly. And well. We got to talking about you being home and all. And she said she would love to have you again. I thought, what a good idea. Bucky needs to get out of the house some. So, I went ahead and told her you would be back. She said this Friday.”

Bucky wanted to sink into the ground right then. “Mom. That’s tomorrow! You signed me up for something without asking me? I’m not in high school anymore. I can make my own decisions.”

“Of course, Bucky. I know that. It just seems like you might need a bit of encouragement to get out.”

“And you couldn’t ask me?”

“I’m asking you now.” Winnie’s voice got a bit steely.

Bucky looked at her and could see that she had set her heart on this. Was hoping that he would do well at it. _She thinks this might save me._ He sighed. “Alright, Mom. I’ll go.”

Winnie looked at her son and beamed. “Thank you, Bucky. I know it will be good for you. Trust your mom.”

He nodded halfheartedly at her. “Sure thing, Mom.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mrs. Heely smiled largely at Bucky as he got to the school on Friday at two. “Bucky, good to see you again! And my, look how you’ve grown.” Bucky felt self-conscious as he knew she was looking at his arm but trying not to mention it. He shifted a little where he stood, pulling at the sleeve of the overly big jacket he was wearing. Steve’s jacket. He had grabbed it at the last minute, hoping it would help him feel safe and warm through what he knew was going to be a difficult day. He was glad for its length right now, seeking to hide himself in it. “I have you set up with Mrs. Warne and Jimmy out over here.” She directed him through a few hallways.

“Here he is, Mrs. Warne.” Mrs. Heely said. She motioned to Bucky who was standing a bit off to the side, feeling just as awkward as when he first volunteered there when he was fourteen. “You’ll be in good hands,” Mrs. Heely said to Bucky, “See you later.” And she left him with two people who did not seem to be very happy that he got dumped on them.

“Hello.” Bucky tried to sound positive and like he was ready and willing to help.

Mrs. Warne was a pinched face woman who looked severe with her hair pulled up in a tight bun. It was the direct opposite to Bucky’s loose bun that would probably need to be put up again in a few minutes. He was proud of himself for mastering the art of putting his hair up with one hand, another thing Becca had helped him with, but he didn’t really want to show it off in front of the stern looking Mrs. Warne and the indifferent Jimmy.

Mrs. Warne whispered something to Jimmy and then turned more fully to Bucky. “Well, we shall see what we need to do with you. I don’t think you should help with the tutoring today. No . . . I imagine that would go very badly. Let’s see. Maybe you could help with moving – no.” Mrs. Warne eyed his arm unpleasantly. “Not much for you to do, I guess.” She sighed. And Bucky felt even worse. _Why am I here?_

“Jimmy, take him to the faculty work room. Here.” She handed Bucky a bulky group of paper. “Get these laminated and cut out. Maybe that will be something you can handle.” She said it in a way that clearly indicated she doubted he could. Bucky felt his heart sink even more. _I doubt I can. How am I supposed to cut them out with only one hand?_ But looking at her scowl, Bucky wanted to prove her wrong. _I am sure I can figure this out. I can do this._ He decided, even though he was not so sure he could. He awkwardly tried to collect the whole stack and readjust it so he didn’t drop it on the way to the faculty workroom. Jimmy had already left, and Bucky rushed to catch up with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter comes from the endlessly fascinating “The Airy Christ:”  
> After reading Dr Rieu’s translation of St Mark’s Gospel.
> 
> Who is this that comes in splendour, coming from the blazing East?  
> This is he we had not thought of, this is he the airy Christ.
> 
> Airy, in an airy manner in an airy parkland walking,  
> Others take him by the hand, lead him, do the talking.
> 
> But the Form, the airy One, frowns an airy frown,  
> What they say he knows must be, but he looks aloofly down,
> 
> Looks aloofly at his feet, looks aloofly at his hands,  
> Knows they must, as prophets say, nailèd be to wooden bands.
> 
> As he knows the words he sings, that he sings so happily  
> Must be changed to working laws, yet sings he ceaselessly.
> 
> Those who truly hear the voice, the words, the happy song,  
> Never shall need working laws to keep from doing wrong.
> 
> Deaf men will pretend sometimes they hear the song, the words,  
> And make excuse to sin extremely; this will be absurd.
> 
> Heed it not. Whatever foolish men may do the song is cried  
> For those who hear, and the sweet singer does not care that he was crucified.
> 
> For he does not wish that men should love him more than anything  
> Because he died; he only wishes they would hear him sing.


	5. His Soul Runs Screaming through the Night

“What is this?” Jimmy asked incredulously as he looked at what Bucky brought him. Bucky had been proud of how it went. He felt surprised by how he figured out how to use the wall and a table he slid over to brace the papers. The sort of wedge system he created allowed him to cut the excess lamination pretty effectively. He had worked for over three hours. His hand felt cramped, but he had felt good.

Then he presented them to Jimmy. Who looked at them for one full minute. Looked back at Bucky and said, “None of this will work. We will have to completely re-do it. What were you thinking? You didn’t even leave an edge, so they will all immediately fray. Were you not going to try at all?”

Jimmy handed them back to Bucky who struggled to collect them in time. They instantly started to slide out, no matter what Bucky did to try to stop them. Bucky looked down at the laminated sheets of paper that fell through his hand. Jimmy laughed cruelly at him. He knew his face was turning red. He felt frustrated, embarrassed, and crushed. He didn’t know what to do, but he didn’t want to be at Douglas anymore. He nodded his head, leaving the papers for Jimmy to clean up _Probably throw away_ and exited as quickly as he could.

 _What am I going to do now? Mom wasn’t going to come back to pick me up for another two hours._ He kicked a little at the cement, feeling like a child. _But I don’t want to try the bus again, so waiting it is._ Bucky looks up to try and see if there is a café or bookstore nearby, trying to remember the stores he would go to when he was in high school. He was looking so intently down the street he didn’t notice the big loaf a man who ran right into. _Almost purposefully._ Bucky looked up to give the careless person a glare, but it quickly melted into a smile.

“Steve!”

“Bucky, we really got to stop meeting like this.” He said, smiling a rich warm smile. It spread through Bucky and acted like a balm soothing the pain that had been dominating him moments before. But then, thinking about that made the whole day rush back. Bucky looked down, turning red with frustration and embarrassment. _What is the point of being here if I can’t even help some kids?_

Steve seemed to understand that something was going on. He leaned against the wall, and Bucky looked at him. _He almost looks silly leaning against this wall. It is what a little kid would do, but he looks so big. A big ridiculous kid._ Bucky felt himself soothed once again. Steve’s long legs stretched out in front of him, leading to his tapered waist. _How is that humanly possible. He really does look like a triangle with those enormous soldiers and that small waist. Those proportions just do not seem real_. Bucky was seized with a desperate desire to run his hand from Steve’s shoulders down to his waist, _Feeling that large chest on the way_. He blushed at himself, then tried to see Steve’s eyes and if there was a hint of recognition.

But Steve had taken the silence as Bucky needing some time to process whatever happened. So he pulled out his sketchbook and was calmly working on sketching _The tree behind me?_ Bucky now craned his head to see if he could get a peak at what Steve was working on. Steve pulled the sketch to his chest, looked at him, and quirked his lips. “Want to see, Bucky?”

“Yeah, punk. I would like to see what the great artist is working on.” Bucky was trying to relieve his own feelings of inadequacy, but he saw Steve’s shoulders fall a little at that. “Hey, I am not kidding, Stevie. You are a great artist.”

Steve looked back at him with assessing eyes. This made Bucky cringe. He wanted to fold in on himself. _Now he can see everything. For fuck’s sake he is facing the missing arm. Now he can see very very clearly that I am broken._ Bucky tried to shift away, which seemed to cause Steve to act. He held out the sketch. It did have a little of the tree Bucky thought he was drawing, but it was mostly Bucky. He managed to make Bucky look somehow noble standing there. He looked at it and felt tears gathering in his eyes. “This is how you see me?” He asked quietly.

Steve nodded _._ Then he pushed against the wall, “Want to go to the art shop with me, Bucky?” Steve pointed to a store a few yards down the street.

“Sure, Mom won’t be here for another hour and half or so.” They walked down to the store together. Bucky still was clutching the sketch, feeling warm. _Didn’t know I could look like this._ Steve hadn’t even ignored the missing arm. He incorporated it in with the rest of Bucky. As if it was just a part of Bucky not the defining thing about him. It felt so good to be seen like that.

They entered the shop together, and Steve led them to the back almost instantly. “What you looking for, Stevie?”

Steve mumbled something to himself and then turned back, “Sorry, Bucky what was that?”

“What you needing to buy?”

“Just some replacement pastels and maybe some thicker paper.” 

Bucky nodded and lost himself looking at all the colors. _It is so strange – some are cold feeling. They just look cold. Isn’t that funny._ He found himself lifting up different things to compare to the colors that were in front of him. He was in the middle of trying to find a match to an elusive shade of yellow when Steve’s laugh brought him out of his comparison attempt.

“What are you doing?” laughed Steve.

Bucky shook his head and held up the front of a sketchpad he had picked up to the yellow swatch affixed on the top of the little drawer. “Just trying to see if I can match the different colors.”

Bucky wanted to look back at Steve because he could feel him smiling at him, which made him smile too. “What? That isn’t so weird is it?”

“No, not at all.” Steve said. And then reached up to join him. Bucky felt himself glazing over looking at Steve’s hand. _He always did have big hands. Long and beautiful too._ Bucky was so caught up in looking at Steve’s hand that he missed what was _in_ Steve’s hand. Suddenly it caught his eyes, and Bucky wanted to die. He had forgotten all about Steve’s jacket. Steve had a little piece of it in his hand that he was pulling to match to one of the swatches. Bucky watched as he did it, but turned bright red. _What should I do? Fuck._ He stared at Steve who seemed to be laughing _at_ him. He turned on his heels and just left he store. He knew Steve was going to try to follow him, but he desperately needed to be alone to die of overwhelming embarrassment. _I can’t believe I was wearing his fucking jacket the whole time._ He ducked down an alley and quickly lost himself in the maze of the bags in the back. With any luck Steve would give up, and Bucky would be able to go home. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bucky contemplated ignoring Natasha’s phone call that night, but he knew that would just bring more trouble afterwards. So, he tried to brace himself as best he could and answered it.

“Nat.” He said shortly, trying to show his displeasure in his tone that she would call him on a day like today that was so terrible.

“Ooo sounds like someone is in a bit of a mood. I take it that it is a good thing I called then, huh. I bet your mother and sisters will appreciate it. Sounds like someone needs to tease you into a good mood.”

He rolled his eyes, frustrated, but charmed as usual by pretty much whatever Nat did. “Yes, yes. I am a beast and a monster who dares to be unhappy some of the time.”

“Hey, come on. You know it is ok to be unhappy some of the time. That is clearly not what this is about. I can already tell you have a story. So story time me.”

Bucky leaned against his headboard, already knowing that he would give in to pretty much whatever Nat asked. “It isn’t a big deal. Or well, I guess part of it is.” Bucky then proceeded to tell her about the disaster of volunteering and the embarrassment of running into Steve. He left out the part about the jacket, knowing Nat would never let him live it down, and luckily for him Nat was so distracted cursing up a storm over Jimmy that she didn’t seem to catch that he left something out. _Usually I wouldn’t get away with that_.

“So you run into Steve, you big tiddied friend who you look at and just melt. How many times did he catch you staring at him? I bet you had at least one moment of overwhelming desire to Stroke Those Tiddies. Didn’t you?”

Bucky couldn’t stop laughing as Nat went on and on about Steve’s large bosom. It made him feel better, and he was glad he answered Nat’s call after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the brief but poignant “Here Lies . . . ” by Smith:  
> “Here lies a poet who would not write  
> His soul runs screaming through the night,  
> ‘Oh give me paper, give me pen,  
> And I will very soon begin.’
> 
> Poor Soul, keep silent. In Death’s clime  
> There’s no pen, paper, notion – and no Time.”


	6. Gold are All Heaven’s Rivers

Over the next week, Bucky had tried to call Steve a few times, but chickened out every time. He was a little disappointed in himself, and so, after putting the girls to bed, got himself a huge ass bowl of ice cream, piled with chocolate syrup and crushed toasted almonds and sat himself down in front of the TV.

“Bucky, is this how you are going to spend your Valentine’s Day? Don’t you have anything better to do?” His mother had scolded when he offered to watch the younger girls.

“No. And come on, Mom. You deserve a night out. Go have fun. Go on a date with that doctor you think none of us know about.” Winnie had smiled a private smile at that and nodded.

“Thank you, honey. But you need to do some things for yourself too, you know.”

Bucky had nodded to her at the time, and now he was feeling like he hit the brief with the disgustingly large bowl of ice cream he was currently plowing through. He almost didn’t hear the knock at the front door. It seemed tentative and quiet, but when Bucky cocked his head to the side and listened again it was there. He got up, setting his bowl down, and answered the door without thinking about it too much. He regretted that pretty much immediately.

On the other side of the door, stood a Very Good-Looking Steve. _He always looks good, but Lord in heaven, what is he trying to do to me?_ Today he wore a soft cream sweater that seemed to cup and swathe his chest in a way that just called you to want to lean into it – maybe putting your face in it. _Soft and big and beautiful_. His hair had been carefully brushed back and he was wearing the tightest black jeans Bucky had ever seen. He realized this because Steve hadn’t waited for an invitation, he just slid past a gob smacked Bucky who was now staring at his stunningly presented ass.

Steve turned back around, waiting for Bucky to close the door. When he did, Steve looked deeply into his eyes. Bucky had to blink a few times, feeling like he was getting pulled down into a sea of rich, deep blue. It was both comforting and terrifying. _Can things be both comforting and terrifying?_ He asked himself in a dazed and distracted state. Suddenly, he was aware that he was just wearing a ratty shirt with holes in it that did nothing to hide the mess of his left shoulder and little bit of arm he still had. _Oh Fuck. I cannot stand to watch his face when he looks at it._ Bucky felt helpless, not knowing how to steel himself against the formidable Steve. _Whatever he says, I can take it. He is probably just here to get his jacket back_.

“You ok, Bucky?”

Bucky looked at Steve. His face was so earnest. It practically shouted, “I just want to help. I don’t expect anything from you. You are my old Bucky and you are my new Bucky and I love them both.” And Bucky couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t take the feeling of fake and wrong that overwhelmed him, threated to drown him really. He began shaking his head furiously.

“No no no no no no no no no. Steve, you can’t say things like that. I don’t deserve things like that. Don’t you see? How can you not see? You are standing there on Valentine’s Day, and what the actual fuck? How do you not have a date? Are you on your way to a date right now? Doesn’t matter, I still have to get this out. I have to try to help you understand. There is a reason I didn’t call you when I first got back here. There is a reason I asked Mom not to call you either. And then when I saw you that first time. When we had that coffee together. . .

“Look. Actually just look with me. Here you are: gorgeous, perfect, wonderful. You practically shine with the sun that you bring into every room and every space. To see Steve is to see light, and I just . . . I can’t compete with that. How could I? I wouldn’t even want to.

“Look at me. I am a fucking broken mess.” Bucky started pulling roughly at his hair. Steve seemed to want to intervene, but he also seemed to understand that this was all something that Bucky need to get out. He needed to express. So, he stayed silent, which Bucky was thankful for. “I am not just talking about the fact that I was held captive for months where they did fucked up things to me. Things I think about all the time, that come back when I least expect them. But really look at my physical body. What did I do those months they had me? Barely survive. When I got home, Mom has done nothing but feed me up. There you are all solid muscle and here I am, wearing an extra tire around my stomach.” Bucky grabbed at the excess skin that hung all around him. He gestured to the mostly eaten bowl of ice cream that was sitting on the table across from them. “This is who I am now. And I am not meant for people like you. Clearly. And I just . . .” Bucky realized he was panting with exertion and was sure his face was red. “I just need you to acknowledge that.” 

Bucky looked at Steve who was just staring at him, almost looking like he was in shock. Bucky looked back at the bowl and then down to his feet. _What the fuck? Why did I just say all of that? I don’t even know why he is here._ Bucky felt rather than knew the tears stream down his face. _Fuck. As if this couldn’t’ get more embarrassing. Now I am going to cry in front of him._ He tried to marshal his emotions and get the tears to stop, but it seemed like an impossible task. They just kept falling.

And Steve still hadn’t said anything.

Bucky tried to stop his blubbering, but realized it was going to be one of those episodes. _I am probably going to be crying for the next two hours. Fuck. I don’t want Steve to see this_. He looked at Steve who finally seemed on the verge of speaking, but Bucky shut him off. “Ok. Look. That was a lot.” He was hiccupping his way through speaking, trying to stop the constant flow, but knowing it wasn’t going to just stop. “So, like, I want to finish my bowl of ice cream, and I just need you to leave. Let me cry in peace for a bit. Ok, Stevie?”

Bucky tried to gesture to the door that they were both still standing close to. Tried to get Steve to follow him to let him out, but Steve seemed rooted to the spot. He took a deep breath, but then Steve was just leaning over, close to him.

“Can I?” Steve asked.

“Can you what? Come on Steve, I just want you to go.”

“Well, I’m not ready to go yet. I came all the way over here to say something, but I haven’t gotten the chance. I would really like to hold your hand or put my arm around you or something when I say this. So can I?” Steve gestured to where his hand was hovering over Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky shrugged, pretending like it didn’t matter to him either way. So Steve sank his warm hand down onto Bucky’s shoulder. He smoothed it across and seemed to be enjoying just the feel of Bucky’s shoulders. _Which is ridiculous. Why would he be enjoying the feel of that? Here I am, an overweight broken soldier and he is a lovely, perfect beefcake artist. And not just the kind of artist who draws beefcakes. The kind of one who_ is _a beefcake._ Bucky shook his head a little, feeling like he was getting very silly over the heady feeling of Steve’s warm hand.

“You know that I missed you so much while you were gone, Bucky. So damn much. We were so close before you left. I didn’t even realize how little I did without you by my side until you were gone, and I was just not doing anything. I wanted to give up then, but then I got your first letter. You were so excited about the new people you were meeting, but you still seemed to miss me. So I thought, I will do this for Bucky. I am going to try for Bucky, so he will have something to be proud of.” Steve slid his hand down Bucky’s arm and reached for his hand, squeezing it when he took it.

“I am sorry I embarrassed you with the jacket last week. I wasn’t trying to be a dick. I really thought it was cute. Do you know I never did get rid of that sweatshirt of yours I took our senior year? I still have it. I wear it most nights when I am alone in my apartment. When I miss the feel of you around me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter comes from “The Heavenly City:”  
> I sigh for the heavenly country,  
> Where the heavenly people pass,  
> And the sea is as quiet as a mirror  
> Of beautiful beautiful glass.
> 
> I walk in the heavenly field,  
> With lilies and poppies bright,  
> I am dressed in a heavenly coat  
> Of polished white.
> 
> When I walk in the heavenly parkland  
> My feet on the pasture are bare,  
> Tall waves the grass, but no harmful  
> Creature is there.
> 
> At night I fly over the housetops,  
> And stand on the bright moony beams;  
> Gold are all heaven’s rivers,  
> And silver her streams.


	7. With Compassion See Life

“You do?” Bucky asked shakily trying to picture the Steve that stood before him in that sweatshirt. He had ‘accidentally’ left it to a scrawny kid that he was sure was swallowed it, but _would it even fit Steve?_

“Yeah, I do. Do you remember how often you would sleep over, especially after Mama got sick? I longed for those days again. We would sleep in the same bed, and the next morning you would act surprised to find that we had found each other in the night. But I was never surprised because I would wait and curl into you. Your warmth felt so divine. Like such a gift. I finally felt warm.”

Bucky new he was blushing, but he really didn’t care. _This is the best thing I have ever heard. It can’t be true._ “I didn’t know.”

Steve finally seemed to lose his nerve and looked down. “Yeah. That doesn’t surprise me. I was working really hard to make sure you didn’t know. I thought you would be pretty annoyed if your best friend admitted that he fell in love with you. But I mean how could I not? You were so kind and funny and handsome. So so handsome.”

Steve looked up into Bucky’s eyes, which were opened wide with surprise as he tried to decode everything Steve was saying. “And then, when Dr. Erskine helped me. All the sudden I shot up, I filled out, and I could finally work out. So many people started looking then. They whistle at me when I went by sometimes or I got approached in bars or just at restaurants. That had neve happened before. Before, only you saw me. Really saw me. You cared for me even when I was pretty unlovable. Is it any wonder that I fell even more in love with you? And that I haven’t stopped loving you. Not for one second or one day. Those months I didn’t hear from you were . . . hell. After that, so many people thought you were dead, but I couldn’t get there. I couldn’t admit that.”

Bucky felt like he was still so far behind and trying to play catch up with all of the things Steve was revealing and saying. “You love me?” He managed to ask, even though his voice was clearly shaking.

Steve leaned forward and cautiously moved his arm from Bucky’s back, still keeping his hand in his. He stood inches away from Bucky, smiling that warm beautiful sun-smile of his. “I have since I was fourteen and began to understand what love is. I just . . . I have always been too scared to say something. What if you rejected me? What if you left me? Then I would have no one. But when you came back – it was a miracle. And all I wanted was to be here with you. For you. And I promised myself that I would work on building our friendship back and then I would tell you everything. But . . .”

“But then I kept dodging you and not doing our typical hangouts or anything.” Bucky shrugged. “I was so worried of your vision of me changing. I couldn’t handle letting you see me, especially because things have been so hard to adjust to here at home.”

Steve nodded. “I get it, and I don’t want to pressure you. But, well, when we ran into each other that fist time I told myself I would finally tell you, and if I still hadn’t then I would come on Valentine’s Day,” Steve pinked at this part of the confession. _This is the part that embarrasses you?_ Bucky smiled. Steve took a breath, “on Valentine’s Day because it was a good marker, and just I didn’t want to think of you alone on Valentine’s Day. Because you deserve to be surrounded by people. To not be alone at all. Ever. Unless you want to.” Steve seemed to lose some of his steam there, which made Bucky laugh. Actually laugh out loud.

“I haven’t done that since I’ve been home.” He admitted.

“What? Laugh?”

Bucky nodded. He squeezed Steve’s hand, which was still clutched in his. “I love you too, Stevie. If you couldn’t tell from the massive letters I sent. Nat said it was so obvious it was painful.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I . . .I have loved you for so long. But it was hard to admit to myself. At first because you were so sick, and I was worried that what happened to Dad would happen to you. I just couldn’t stand that thought. But mostly I was a coward. I didn’t want you to reject me and think that we couldn’t be friends anymore. I would do anything for you Steve.”

Steve drew Bucky’s face in, stroking his cheek lightly. He held the distance between them, “May I?”

Bucky surged ahead and was shocked at the burst of love he felt when their lips connected. _This is ridiculous. I should have known Stevie would kiss like we were in the movies._ That was Bucky’s last coherent thought for a while as he got lost in Steve’s delicious kissing. Steve circled his other hand around Bucky’s waist, squeezing what he found there, which made Bucky pull away.

Steve kept trying to chase his lips and sighed softly when Bucky danced just out of reach. “Bucky. Bucky, I love all of you.” Steve insisted. “You know I have seen you since you came back. I have spent hours with you, and I love you just as you are.”

Bucky tried to scrutinize Steve’s face but couldn’t find anything dishonest in it. He nodded, briefly leaning into Steve’s embrace. “Join me for ice cream and _Little Nicky_?”

“Is that what you are watching?”  
“Shut up, it’s good.”

Steve smiled, “Of course.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning when Winnie found Steve with Bucky, she about lost her mind. She was overly effusive in a way that Steve said he understood, but that made Bucky want to crawl under the table and hide from the world. Especially from Steve. _But that would mean Steve isn’t keeping his arms around me. And I need them for warmth_. Bucky decided and resettled in Steve’s lap. _Maybe I should have expected that form Mom really._

Becca was so surprised she dropped her bowl of cereal, causing milk to go all over the living room. Mom was not happy. But it made Bucky laugh into Steve’s shoulder.

They make plans to see each other that night, and Bucky went back up to his room to call Nat. _I finally have news I want to share with her_. He thought excitedly as he waited for her to pick up. He gleefully told her everything and was very satisfied by her joy for him.

“I knew you two would finally figure it out with how much you were running into each other. It was fate.”

“Yeah, maybe it is.” Bucky smiled. But then he thought about part of why he called. _I need to do this. Don’t be a coward._ “How has Clint been?” Clint had been a subject he was loath to bring up. He still felt so much guilt about what happened to him. It almost felt better to not talk about it at all. But he loved Clint, and he didn’t want to spend his life trying to avoid talking to or about one of his friends.

Nat seemed to brighten with his question and rattled off what Clint had been up to and how he was adapting to life. “You know, he is wanting to go to this meeting for wounded vets. Ones who have permanent changes in their lives, but he keeps chickening out. Says he doesn’t want to go alone. You two could go together?”

“But I thought you and Clint were living in DC still?”

He could practically hear Nat’s smile through the phone. “We just finished signing our lease on a new apartment in Bed Stuy.”

“Really?” Bucky was so excited to think about his friends being so close.

“Yeah. We both can’t wait to meet Steve. Especially now.”

That made Bucky cough a little in surprise but mostly he felt warm because he had a boyfriend to show off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Everything wasn’t always perfect. Winnie still coddled him and drove him to distraction with the things she would set up for him to do. Becca was trying, but she still forgot he didn’t have two arms and would ask impossible things for him to do. This always led to awkward stammering and then pained apologies.

About one month later, Steve asked Bucky to move in with him, which did help. Now he got to see his Mom and sisters for short spurts of time rather than being on top of each other. It helped with his mental state, he thought. But still he had some bad days. Days he just couldn’t get out of bed. He wanted to disappear. But even then, Steve was always there to just ask “Bucky, you ok?”

No pressure. No expectations. It is what made Bucky feel the safest and best. He finally felt warm with Steve by his side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title comes from Smith’s “Do Not!”:  
> Do not despair of man, and do not scold him,  
> Who are you that you should so lightly hold him?  
> Are you not also a man, and in your heart  
> Are there not warlike thoughts and fear and smart?  
> Are you not also afraid and in fear cruel,  
> Do you not think of yourself as usual,  
> Faint for ambition, desire to be loved,  
> Prick at a virtuous thought by beauty moved?  
> You love your wife, you hold your children dear,  
> Then say not that Man is vile, but say they are.  
> But they are not. So is your judgement shown  
> Presumptuous, false, quite vain, merely your own  
> Sadness for failed ambition set outside,  
> Made a philosophy of, prinked, beautified  
> In noble dress and into the world sent out  
> To run with the ill it most pretends to rout.  
> Oh know your own heart, that heart's not wholly evil,  
> And from the particular judge the general,  
> If judge you must, but with compassion see life,  
> Or else, of yourself despairing, flee strife.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the full text of Smith’s poem “Not Waving but Drowning” It is one of those poems I think about a lot. It has such interesting points to make about the assumptions we make and the kind of people we think we see and understand, etc.:  
> Nobody heard him, the dead man,  
> But still he lay moaning:  
> I was much further out than you thought  
> And not waving but drowning.
> 
> Poor chap, he always loved larking  
> And now he’s dead  
> It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,  
> They said.
> 
> Oh, no no no, it was too cold always  
> (Still the dead one lay moaning)  
> I was much too far out all my life  
> And not waving but drowning.


End file.
